Crossing the Line
by Senator Elizabeth Organa
Summary: Set 6.5 months after Larry blasts off into space in Killer Chat. Agents and people connected with the FBI are disappearing and it's up to Charlie, Don, and the team to find out who perp is before it's too late and two of their own disappear...
1. Prolouge

**Hi there. Author here. Well, this is my first Numb3rs story... REVISED! I hope that you all like it. The idea just came to me and I thought that I'd go with it... This is just a taste of what's to come! So, enjoy! And if you have any comments and/or suggestions, review! (They're much appreciated!) :) **

* * *

It was a cold December night in California (well, as cold as California could ever get). Amita Ramanajan stood in the kitchen of her boyfriend's house, barefoot, but dressed warmly in a white sweater, green camisole, and blue jeans. Her dark hair was curled a bit and hung loose on her shoulders. Amita, thinking an orange was more festive and more interesting than an apple, set the orange on the cutting board and proceeded to cut it into small pieces. As she cut into the orange, the enticing scent wafted around the kitchen and made her a bit happier than she had been moments before.

She slowly walked over to the stereo in the living room with intent to find a radio station with holiday music playing.

Over the past six months, Amita found that she was happier. She'd surprisingly been spending more time at Charlie's house; it was a place that she found had harbored her most thorough and best thoughts: astrophysics, theoretical physics, mathematics... Amita continually wondered why she was so happy around his house, and why everything just made sense when she was staring at all of his work for his Cognitive Emergence Theory... Charlie—that's why... Her thoughts always seemed to drift towards him. He was important to her... _More than either of us would admit_, she thought, laughing a small laugh.

Flipping through digital radio stations, Amita finally found one that was playing what she was looking for. She loved the holidays, and so did Charlie, or at least she thought that he did. A few days previous, Amita had walked into Charlie's office and caught him in mid-thought...

_Amita walked into Charlie's office with her laptop in hand. She paused in the doorway for a moment and tilted her head watching him move around back and forth to each end of his chalkboard. Larry, who'd returned two days beforehand, was busy talking to him about the stars and such that he had seen while in orbit. Charlie just nodded in response. _

_Slowly she walked in and set her computer on top of a sturdy stack of papers on his desk next to his origami. "Hey," Amita simply said._

_Charlie turned around very quickly, like he wasn't expecting her. "Why Amita, what brings you to this humble abode at this current moment?" asked Larry surprised to see her too. _

_"I just had a question, but it can wait... Whatcha working on Charlie?" She walked around the desk and sat a few feet from where he was standing. He immediately pulled down a different board to cover what he was working on, thinking that she hadn't seen. _

_"N-Nothing... just class stuff..."_

_"So you're teaching algebra applied to food again?" _

_"I uh... yeah... I guess so... is this what was on this board?" Charlie grabbed an eraser and started to erase the chalk profusely. _

_"What were you working on, other than algebra applied to food?"_

_"Uh... sit right there... um..." He walked around a bit and looked for something. Charlie shuffled some papers and after clearing about fifty sheets, he pulled out a red Santa hat. "A student said I should buy one because I was a Scrooge," he joked a bit, putting it onto her head, "bah-Humbug." Amita rolled her eyes and took off the hat. "Guys, I'm still here... But I can make my presence disappear if you'd like..." Larry said sheepishly._

_"No Larry, stay. I wanted to show you this too... I've finally come up with the perfect answer."_

_"Answer to what, Charlie?" asked Amita curiously, hesitating. He pushed the top chalkboard up to reveal what he had been originally working on._

_"Christmas trees." Charlie smiled a great big, some what dopey, grin as he said the two words. Larry and Amita looked at each other and laughed a bit. "What? I can't find the perfect tree by using my analysis?"_

_"Charles, can't you just go out and enjoy the majesty of nature and choose a tree that, I know this might sound silly—makes you happy? Take Amita with you, I'm sure that she'd want to go."_

_"Yeah, but this helps you find the perfect tree..."_

_"There is no such thing as perfect in the cosmos..." Larry got up slowly and started walking out, throwing his hands into the air, "You know there's no such phenomenon as perfect in the cosmos... You know a..." _

_"Bye Larry." Charlie called after him. He turned to Amita, dropped the hat on her head, and kissed her lightly on the lips (causing female students whom were passing by to giggle,) and said, "Merry Christmas."_

Charlie had taken her to get the tree, granted it most likely was not the perfect tree, and to a POPS concert at the LA Philharmonic. Amita loved hearing Handel's Messiah; it had a concrete mathematical pattern, which was fun, but it also was beautiful to listen to.

Amita walked back into the kitchen and hummed the melody of "Baby It's Cold Outside." She returned to her orange enjoyed the time to think. Her humming resounded throughout the entire empty house; Don was working at the FBI, Alan was out with Mildred, and Charlie was at CalSci or at the FBI with Don, so Amita was alone. Charlie had insisted that she stay there while her apartment was being wired and worked on.

Once again, Amita let her thoughts wander, and all of her attention with it. The presence of anyone else in the house went unnoticed... Then, unexpectedly, she felt two arms wrapped around her waist, snapping her back to reality. It wasn't threatening, but loving and comforting, reassuring. A head looked over her shoulder as a smile found its way onto Amita's face. _Charlie..._ "Hey," the stranger said. Amita turned her head to reply, but Charlie took the words out of her mouth; he gave her a sweet kiss and then brought her around to face him.

Turning around, Amita put down the knife and followed his gesture; she hardly ever got to see this side of Charlie. His hair was a bit more disheveled than usual and his jeans, black t-shirt, blue pinstripe button down, and black suit jacket had wrinkles in them meaning that he probably tried to catch a few moments of sleep after she'd left at 5 o'clock. He looked tired, if not exhausted. "Charlie, I don't have to stay here; that's why there are hotels," she said, feeling like she was imposing on him and his family.

Charlie's hands tensed, "Nah. You're not... it's no problem." Amita nodded in reply. Charlie kissed her lightly on the head and walked into the kitchen and sat down, rubbing his temples. He was obviously thinking about one of Don's problems. She finished slicing the orange and brought it out to the living room to share with Charlie. Taking a seat next to him, she asked, "What are you doing home? I thought that you were working on something for Don's case..."

"When am I not?" The clock chimed that it was 9:30 loudly and died away. "It's just... I have to have more information. My results keep coming back inconclusive; there's seemingly no connection between the two victims. There's just too few occurrences... n-not that I want any more to happen. I've done all that I can do..."

"Can I take a look?" Amita asked. Charlie gestured to the stacks of paper that were lying on the table.

"I have to meet Don in," he looked at his watch, "an hour."

"That's 11 PM. Isn't that late? Even for the FBI?"

"They've been working on this case day in and day out. One woman dead, the other missing, no apparent connection, and there's a good chance there'll be more."

"Advanced behavioral game theory?"

"Yep. I thought that I'd maybe grab something to eat, drop by, and work on my Emergence Theory a bit." He got up, sighed, gave Amita a quick kiss, and hurried out to the garage.

Amita picked up part of the stack of papers and started to peruse them. She looked at the first folder, the top paper being a coroners report. _The dead woman_._ Name... Walters, Rebecca. _She shrugged it off, and turned to the next stack of photos, _this has to be the missing woman_..._ Chelsea McDaniel... That name seems extraordinarily familiar…_

Following a hunch, Amita flipped to the information about Chelsea McDaniel; Occupation: FBI Agent.

A spark went off in Amita's head. She'd seen Chelsea before. In the past six months, Don had brought her home with him six or so times. They were friendly towards each other and looked as if they could have been more serious…A shrug followed her thought.

She flipped to the coroner's report and searched for Rebecca Walter's job. _Lawyer. _No connection. Amita sighed. Following a hunch, Amita turned to Rebecca Walter's coroner report again and looked for a spouse and his job. _John Walters—FBI agent._ Amita gasped; she'd figured it out, _They're all connected in some way to the FBI._

Suddenly, Amita heard a door open, and saw Charlie rush through. "Charlie?"

He stopped and came back to the living room. "Where are you going? Is everything alright?"

"I…I forgot something at CalSci. I have to go get it before I see Don. Network theory; maybe a new connection." Charlie said hurriedly.

"Speaking of which, I…" Amita started. He gave her a kiss on the lips and said goodbye, running out the door. "Bye," she said after he left.

* * *

**Well, I hope that you enjoyed it! Review please! (They are much wanted and appreciated!)** **Stay tuned for more...**


	2. Chapter 1: Late Nights and Questions

--**Hey there! The little Means it's been revised an replaced... Enjoy!--**

**I want to say thank you to all who reviewed, especially..**

**_meganreeves_- Here's the update for you! I do plan to continue!**

**_StarWars-Freak_**- **Thanks for the review!**

**_Cris_- Thanks for the review!**

**So, as always, ideas and comments are much appreciated-- just drop me a review! Thanks, and enjoy!**

* * *

"Come on guys, what have we got? I need all of those background searches, credit card slips, cell phone triangulations… now!" stressed Don as he walked through the bullpen and threw another manila file folder onto his desk more angrily than he would have liked.

Everybody on Don's team knew that time was not the only thing that was pressed on this case. Colby was pressed to discern a suspect or a connection and crime scene detail. David was pressed to interpret phone records and look for any patterns, no doubt the most boring of the jobs. Megan was pressed to get the dead agent's husband interrogated and to interrogate the missing agent's boyfriend, if they could find out 1) who that was and 2) where the hell he was; as well as helping Colby with his crime scene detail. And Don, overall, was not only pressed emotionally, it seemed, but was also pressed by the director and the families of those who had disappeared/been killed. But everyone was on edge, knowing that their perp would do it again, and it was only just a matter of time.

Don dropped into his chair and rubbed his pounding temples. It was 10:30 on a Tuesday night, and he realized that he lost track of time when he first came on shift, let alone the last time he had slept or had a decent meal. He looked around the bullpen for a moment, proud at seeing his entire team giving their all, even though they too had been continually on the job as long as he had. Chinese, Mexican, Thai, and Italian take-out boxes littered the little kitchen and various desks around the office. _Note to self, call custodian to clean up_, he thought.

Megan came along and sat on the edge of his desk. She handed him one of the two coffees that she had in her hands. Don nodded in reply, "Thanks."

"We all need it, but I can only carry two at a time." Megan tried to laugh it off. Chelsea was one of her friends and they were all a bit too close for comfort on this case.

"I'm sorry that you had to cancel your plans with Larry tonight, but we needed all of the help that we can get."

"It's okay, he'll understand. I got done interrogating the husband about an hour ago. He's an agent who was on an undercover mission in Napa at the time his wife was abducted. As far as he knows, he doesn't have any enemies, and doesn't believe that his wife has any. As far as he's considered, she's an angel--clean as a whistle."

"Yeah, well, her background check could have told us that. Speaking of which, where's David?"

"He's… I don't know. He was in the records room, but maybe he's somewhere catching a few. I haven't seen Colby for a while either; maybe he's doing the same. Don, if they're sleeping, just let them for a few minutes; they need it. You need it."

"Yeah, yeah, but they better be up here at 11 to meet with Charlie."

"Miss one of Charlie's math lessons? No way." David said as he joined Don and Megan with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Don, there's just one thing that I wasn't able to do," said Megan. David listened to their conversation and sipped his horrible break room coffee.

"What's that?" Don replied, rubbing his forehead and taking a sip of his coffee.

"I couldn't find Chelsea's boyfriend." Don choked on his drink, and Megan continued, "Or who he is. It's like he didn't exist. We know she had one; her family knew that she did, just not who—no name. I don't even know. What do you want me to do?" Don grabbed his phone and answered it, "Eppes. Yeah… hold on a second..." he covered the microphone on his cell and turned to Megan and David, "Megan, go on and do whatever you need to do to find out who this guy is. David, carry on. Guys, I've got to take this; see you in a bit." He walked off, continuing to talk on his phone.

"That's funny," David said, "I've never heard his phone ring."

"Neither did I," Megan replied.

"You don't think—"

"Honestly, David, I don't know what I think anymore." Megan confessed as she tossed her coffee cup into a wastebasket and went back to work.

* * *

Charlie went faster and faster in his little blue Prius in those ten minutes, normally a twenty minute trip, on his way to CalSci than he had ever gone in his life. When he got there, he practically jumped out of the car, locked it quickly, and bounded into the university. He turned corners, ran through a courtyard, passed Larry… Larry. Charlie stopped in his tracks when he heard, "Charles?"

He turned around, "Larry."

"What brings you here at this late hour? And obviously in a stroke of puzzling thought?"

"Can you run?"

"I suppose so, why the desire for higher speed?"

"I have to get something from my office. You can come if you'd like." He started off running once more. Larry bounded off behind him, trying to catch up with him, "Charles, I never knew you could run this rapidly."

"Keep up, Larry!" Charlie yelled back as he turned a corner and ran to his door, quickly unlocking it. He threw the door open and dropped his stuff onto the ground. He walked over to his desk and shuffled through all of the papers, finding two single sheets and stuffing them into his bag. Larry appeared in the door, "Now, Charles, do you care to inform me the nature of this expedient jog?"

"Network theory… game theory…late."

"A case for the FBI, I presume?"

"Yep… uh, Larry, I've really got to go, so will you lock the door when you leave?"

"Yes, but Charles?"

"_Yes_, Larry?" Charlie replied, turning around to face Larry.

"Can I come with you?" Larry asked humbly.

"C'mon. I'll fill you in on the way there." Both Larry and Charlie took of for Charlie's Prius and the FBI building.

* * *

It was literally the eleventh hour and Megan was dragging. _Need coffee…_ she thought, fighting to stay awake. Her head kept slipping off of its perch on her hands while she was sitting trying to formulate a way to tell Don what she had found at Chelsea's desk.

"Hey." Don said as he walked by her desk.

"Ugh…" Megan replied, letting her head slip and go 'thunk' on her desk.

"That bad, huh?"

"I've been searching for the past hour for any indication that she had a boyfriend. And… I think I found one," she tossed a plastic evidence bag with a picture in a silver frame up onto her desk in view of Don. _Damn_, he thought. "It's you Don."

He looked away for a second, "Yeah, I know. She wanted a picture. So, I gave her this one. Can we talk somewhere different?"

"Yeah, sure. Let's just use one of the interrogation rooms. No pun intended." They walked to the nearest room and both sat down; Don in a chair, rubbing his temples again, and Megan next to him. The blue walls were dreary, and didn't add to the conversation, but detracted from it.

"I'm guessing that you want to hear about everything."

"Well, if you want to tell. I mean you don't like to talk about who you see."

"I don't," he sighed.

"She must have meant a lot to you... I mean.. she **means** alot to you… Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here…"

"Thanks, Megan." Don got up and walked out of the room just to see Larry and Charlie run by. He walked to the AV room, and was soon followed by Megan. As Charlie was setting up his laptop, Larry saw Megan and gave her a hug and a kiss. The guys looked on and chuckled a bit; even after seven or eight months, couldn't believe Megan and Larry were a couple.

"If we could get back to this… I have some interesting new things about this case."

"Like what, Charlie?"

"Well, by using Advanced Networking Theory, with a little bit of Behavioral Game theory, I've been able to come up with a connection between victims and most likely for new victims. That is—" Charlie began, only to be interrupted by Don's cell phone. He went silent as Don answered his phone, "Eppes."

All of the color drained from Don's face and he sat down in the chair behind him. He felt like he was going to collapse or be sick, or both. The unwelcoming décor of the AV with its cold glass walls felt like they were spinning. He hung his head as he talked, "Yeah. I got it. I'll be there in twenty minutes." He slowly closed his phone, sniffed once, and stood up. Don had a hard time keeping an even tone, "LAPD found Chelsea an hour ago, dumped just outside the concert hall. They took her body to the coroner's office. We've got to go. Charlie, we'll catch up with you later." They all grabbed their coats and were about to leave, when Charlie stopped them, "Wait! I'm not done!"

Don turned, "Fine. Make this quick."

"The connection is the FBI."

"What the hell? What do you mean?"

"The victims were either directly or indirectly associated with the FBI. One agent, and one victim who's husband was an FBI agent. They're going after people connected to the FBI."

"How certain are you?"

"I'd say 99.9. And unless you know what they want to accomplish, there'll be more victims."

"Yeah, I know that. Stay here, Charlie. You too, Larry."

"I have to go back home—"

"No, stay here. We'll see you in a bit." The team rushed off towards the coroner's office.

"I'm driving," Don said as the steel elevator doors closed, causing groans to follow.

"They rushed off quickly," said Larry scratching his head.

"Yeah." Charlie walked back to grab his stuff.

"Charles? What are you thinking of doing?"

"Well, if that's all he needs me for, I'm going home. I'm not staying here." He walked past Larry and into the elevator, "You coming?" Larry nodded and followed Charlie into the elevator.

* * *

**I hope everyone enjoyed it! Updates coming soon... Reviews are wanted and welcomed:) Stay tuned for more...**


	3. Chapter 2: Trouble is A'Brewin'

**Another REVISED and REPOSTED chapter. Much better this time... I promise! Enjoy Chapter 2...**

* * *

Amita finished her orange and went to wash her blue ceramic dish in the sink. She let the warm water flow over her hands and enjoyed watching the soap bubbles form their individual spheres. When she was done, she stacked it with the dishes Alan, Charlie and Don's father, had washed after lunch.

Suddenly, Amita heard the heavy, old oak front door open and close. "Charlie?" she called out, expecting to get a reply; however, in response, all she got was a resounding silence. She hummed a line of "Deck the Halls," and felt a presence in the kitchen.

This time it wasn't a familiar and loving, no trademark smell of Charlie's cologne or the way Alan made a room automatically feel like home, but there was only cold feeling in the room; stone cold. Amita heard uneven breathing and felt unfamiliar steps on the cherry colored wood floor. They kept coming closer and closer, and finally, Amita could tell that whoever it was was standing directly behind her. Then, a great deal of force pinned her and her arms against the oak counters so that she couldn't move. She moved and squirmed trying to get her arm free. "Damn it, will you just hold still? This would be so much easier if you did!"

Luckily, she'd been able to free one of her arm and reached for the knife that she'd used to cut her orange. Quickly and with as much force as she could muster at the time, Amita moved it and cut the top of the man's right hand. He let go of her and hollered, holding his wounded wrist. _Probably shouldn't have done that…_ Amita thought not wasting any time to grab the phone and head for the stairs.

The man was relatively fast and ran after Amita. She had to think of a way to deter him or at least delay him… or get a good look at his face. Using angles was going to be useful, but almost not useful at that point… he was not following any analytical behavioral pattern. Not Brownian, not linear, not in any pattern of movement. She ran around the sofas and such, hoping that he'd trip. _Nope_… Instead, he tipped everything over and knocked everything off of the tables.

Amita bounded for the stairs, and as she was climbing the first few, the man grabbed her ankle and started to pull her down. He tripped her, consequentially causing her to hit her head on the banister and slow for a second. She kicked as hard as she could to get him off of her ankle, and luckily delivered a kick that **did** deter him by knocking him back into the end table.

After she'd gotten upstairs, she shut every door to confuse the intruder, and headed for her guest bedroom. Once inside of the normally soothing pale blue ocean themed room (that Charlie swore he did just for her), she locked the door that led out to the hall and the doors to the adjoining rooms. Amita picked up the phone and dug her cell phone out of her purse. She called 9-1-1 on the home phone and Charlie on the other. Not getting a response from Charlie, she pocketed her cell phone.

Now she had to make a decision; there were two ways out. One, being the intruder comes in, and most likely, does something horrible to her or worse, or two, get out of the window and down the tree that was just outside of said window. Amita hated making decisions like this, though she had never had to before. While pondering this, all that Amita was left with was what little time she had to make her decision to leave and to wonder why the hell Don didn't keep a spare gun at Charlie's house.

* * *

In the elevator, which seemed to not want to descend at its normal speed that night, Charlie picked up his phone when he felt it vibrate. He quickly looked at his caller ID. _Amita_. He wondered what was wrong. When he left her, she was in good spirits.

"Who was that Charles?" asked Larry as the steel elevator reached the lobby with a chime. Charlie hastily walked out of the elevator towards his Prius.

"Amita. I don't know… Something just doesn't feel right." Larry followed just as quickly, "You mean the cosmos is out of alignment?"

"No… I don't know… I just… I just need to get to the house. To… To see that everything is alright."

"Charles, everything is going to be alright." Charlie just nodded in reply and walked at a quicker pace to his car, anxious to see what he would find.

* * *

**Okay, that was pretty mean of me... But cliffhangers are the best! Thanks for reading! Review, please...**


	4. Chapter 3: A Night for the Living

**I'm so sorry that I have not updated lately, and in the first chapter, they obvioulsy don't accept aterisks. My life has been CRAZY... that could be due to two AP courses... but anyways... Read and Enjoy, oh, and don't forget to drop me a review if you want... (I like them!)**

* * *

Don and his team moved quickly into the morgue, which was located in the busiest hospital in LA. The team could tell that something was up. Don never wanted to go to the morgue; he'd always give it to somebody else. But now, he was antsy to get to see the death doctor.

He felt awful; like his insides had been put in a blender and swirled about mercilessly, or been punched a few dozen times. _Chelsea doesn't deserve this… not this…_ Don was practically running into the autopsy room, and the sterile white walls and wired glass didn't help him feel any better. _I hate hospitals_.

The doors were right in front of him, but they seemed a mile away. The guys were probably wondering why he was so involved with this case, but he didn't care. When he reached them, Don practically knocked them off of their hinges as he went in. The coroner greeted him, "Good evening, Sir. Is there something that I can help you with?"

"Don Eppes, FBI." He flashed his badge, "And my team. Megan Reeves, David Sinclaire, and Colby Granger." All flashed their badges in succession.

"Mark Sanderson. Oh… you must be here for Chelsea McDaniel. She just came in not five minutes ago. I was just about to get started on her autopsy….I still have to clean her up but… I f-" Don saw Chelsea laying upon the cold steel slab of a table and felt his heart stop.

He wandered over from the group and over to the table and looked at her. Her pale green dress was tattered and smudged with brown dirt, one of her shoes was astray, but the strap still affixed to her ankle, and the other was missing a heel. She had bruises all over her legs and arms, and a few on her lovely featured face. Worst of all, her chestnut and auburn colored medium-length hair was tangled and had brown smudges of dirt in it.

Don let his head drop in sadness. He remembered how much she loved that dress and the way her hair felt in his hands and how beautiful her blue eyes were. His team joined him and the coroner came to finish his job. Don held up a hand before he got to her left hand, and took her delicate hand in his. Gently he removed a beautiful gold engagement ring with large diamonds and continued to hold her fair skinned hand. "If it's alright with you, can I have this?" he asked, trying to sound strong.

"Mr. Eppes, do you have a personal connection with Miss McDaniel?" the coroner asked.

Don reached up and moved her hair away from her face and gently caressing her cheek, "I… I guess you could say that."

Megan, Colby, and David exchanged looks that all expressed the same thing: pure and shear surprise.

The coroner nodded, and Don slipped it into his pocket, after taking one more look at it, with a deep sigh. He rubbed her cheek again and saw a tear slide down her cheek. Don's jaw dropped and he immediately felt for a pulse. "Aren't you guys supposed to know the difference between somebody who'd dead and alive?!"

"Yes. What do you mean? Miss McDaniel is dead, I'm sorry sir, but she's dead…"

"Check her pulse… NOW!" Don screamed. The team just stood back and didn't want to intervene.

So, Dr. Sanderson checked her pulse. "Holy shit," he waved a nurse down and gave her rushed orders and yelled for her to do it ASAP, "I… excuse the language. It's just when we get people, they're dead. She's damn near dead, but there's still life in her." Megan saw that Don was on the verge of breakdown, and came over to support her friend.

The hospital staff brought a stretcher and quickly moved Chelsea to the ICU to check her out. A resident came and told Don that they'd give her a full examination and do the regular forensics. He nodded and without any words followed the gurney up to the ICU and out of the morgue.

"Who'd have known that Don had a fiancé? Did any of you know?" asked David, seeing as how there was an awkward silence that befell the morgue. Both of his colleagues shook their heads. Don had been good at keeping it a secret from everybody. Megan came out of her thoughts and spoke up, "You two go back to the office to see about Larry and Charlie, and I'll stay here with Don. He's going to need all of the help that he can get."

"Megan?" Colby asked while leaving.

"Yeah?"

"Now you know why you couldn't find Chelsea's boyfriend?"

"You know Colby, I'm tired, but I'm not stupid. And yes, I figured that out a while ago. See you later."

Megan turned to the very embarrassed coroner and asked what room she'd find her friends in. She got the room number 1930 out of him, and reluctantly thanked him, heading off in that direction.

* * *

The time had come to make the decision of flight or fight. _Flight… defiantly flight…_ She carefully snuck over to the window and opened it, climbing out into the large birch tree, closing the window behind her. Quickly, she jumped into the corner behind the tree and curled herself up into a ball as small as she could.

Now time would be the determining factor in whether or not she'd live. No math could predict the exact outcome…

* * *

The creeper in Charlie's house paused and huffed. He kicked down the door. Angry as anyone could ever be, he ran along the hall and kicked down the other doors in the corridor. _Damn it. Where did she go?_

Blood was still dripping from the cut on his hand.

This just meant that he had to revamp his strategy…

Sirens blared down the street, signaling the end of this attempt… he'd try again… Plus he heard that he had some unattended business to deal with…

Stealthily, the intruder grabbed the files off of the coffee table and snuck out of the house and to his black Cadillac Escalade.

* * *

Charlie's mind went blank, which was certainly a first for him, as he drove down the street as fast as he could get his car to go before slamming on the brakes just before he came to the montage of police cars and the ambulance. "Whoa, Charles... you might have a future in NASCAR..." Larry tried to lighten the stifling tension in the car.

Larry and Charlie had hardly said two words on the way home, though Larry thought that he could hear Charlie's heart beating. He found it peculiar that his friend was almost in a state of sheer panic; Charlie was always rational, and never let the other side of his brain be in control, but at this moment, Larry didn't think that his friend Charlie or even Professor Eppes was in control—this was a different Charlie.

Leaving his keys in the ignition and Larry in the car, Charlie slammed the car door and started running up the gray stone pathway that led to his house. Larry soon followed, wanting to be there for his friend. A rather large uniformed officer stopped them at the door, "Sorry, Sirs, you two can't go in. Active crime scene."

All of the air left Charlie's body as if he had been socked in the stomach, "Wha... What do you mean—Active Crime Scene?"

"9-1-1 operator got some call from this house and nobody responded, so she sent us out."

"You—You don't understand. This is _my_ house. I _need_ to get in."

"If you give me your name, I can have you checked, and then, just possibly, you can go in. That is, if you're lucky," the tall black haired officer chuckled. This got Charlie very angry and caused him to raise the decibel level of his voice, "I **DON'T** have time for **THIS**. **LET** me in. **NOW**." He tried to push past the officer, but the officer pushed back a bit harder. "Look. I'm not a criminal; I'm a math professor. I consult for the FBI. I consult for the NSA. If you do a background check, you're going to come up clean. So, skip the damn background report and just let me in." The officer stopped him again, **_this_ **_is why Don doesn't work for the LAPD. _

"Yeah...right... I can tell by the outfit," Charlie began to pace as the officer harangued him. _This guy must think that all professors wear suits..._ "Hold on there, Shorty. What's your name?"

"Dr. Charles Eppes, and this is Dr. Larry Flinehart." The buff officer looked towards Larry and gave him the once over. Larry was dressed in his usual attire: jeans, sneakers, some type of crazy shirt (this time a yellow one with little pineapples), a black North Face fleece jacket, and his short, scruffy, blonde hair was in disarray, as was always associated with Flinehart. "You two are professors?" Larry nodded, and the officer laughed, "Is this all true?" Larry nodded.

"Fine, Pee Wee..."

"Don't call me that."

"Fine _Dr_. Eppes, you can go inside—for... ten minutes."

Charlie nodded and gruffly pushed past the officer. Larry followed, but less in a less aggravated manner. He almost bumped into a petrified Charlie as he walked into the front door.

Dialing Don's number, Charlie found it harder to breathe. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. The house was a wreck; his house was a wreck. The oak floors had scratches in it that weren't there a few hours ago, there was a small amount of blood on the stairway wall and on the stairs, there was his mother's prized Victorian ceramic lamp sprawled out on the floor, and most of the furniture in the near vicinity was knocked over. All of the files on the victims were gone as well.

After four rings, Don picked up the phone, "_Eppes_."

"Don... S-Something's h-happened." Charlie stuttered, rubbing his hand through his hair and forehead.

"_This isn't a good time, Charlie_."

"Amita… Amita's gone…"

"_Maybe she just went out somewhere."_ Don wasn't getting it.

Charlie was at the point of hysterics, "Her car's in the driveway… Don—there's blood… a good amount of it… It looks like somebody let in the CalSci wrestling team."

"_What the hell do you mean?"_

"Don, something happened."

"_Charlie… I'll…_," Charlie could hear Don sigh on the other side of the line, "_Be right there."_ The line clicked dead, and Charlie stood in the doorway, stock still, and let out a wince. He walked through the house, careful not to touch anything that could be of importance in the investigation on who did this to his life… his house… his girlfriend. _What if Amita's kidnapped… or worse? The statistics aren't good…_, Charlie thought, slapping himself mentally. _She's not… she couldn't be… there's… there's just no way_… He let out another audible wince and called out her name loudly, letting it echo through the house and permeate the immediate vicinity. He wasn't going to give up until he found her.

* * *

**What happens to Amita? Will Chelsea die? What was the 'unfinished business'? All that and more next time... Say tuned! Review and I'll update faster... aww heck... I'll update today, but it'll make me feel more fufilled! I'm open to all ideas:) **


	5. Chapter 4: A Moment to Relax

.**It's another update! I'm going to try to update more frequently... Enjoy Chapter 4!**

**No, I do not own NUMB3RS... **

**We get a little look into the side of Don that not many people know about/see... **

* * *

Back at the hospital, Don sighed a sigh of exasperation. This evening was deteriorating by the second, as if it wasn't bad enough. He had gone with Chelsea up to the ICU. After they examined her for a few minutes, they moved her to a private room. The doctors then affixed all of the tubes and wires that they deemed fit to her weak, fragile, thin frame. Her beautiful dress was cut away—the dress that she had worn on numerous occasions when they went out together, and when he had proposed to her on that lovely November day…

"_Don! Wait up! Doonnn!" cried Chelsea playfully, following Don up a hill in one of LA's largest, if not only, parks. Her green sandal slid off a bit, causing her to stumble and twirl down the hill in a playful manner—but not before grabbing Don's heel and bringing him down with her. _

"_Chels! Wha-" was all that Don could get out before they went head over heels down the grass. He had fun with her; that was one of the best things about Chelsea. Over the past few weeks, he couldn't help but think about being with her and how much he loved her… needed her. _

_When they came to a rest, he landed on top of her. She looked up at his chestnut colored eyes and smiled at the warmth that they had in them. Chelsea reached up, laughing, put her thin arms around his neck and brought him down close to her face, beckoning him to giver her a kiss. He complied and ran his hands through her silk-like auburn hair, taking advantage of their current position. "Do you know how much I love you? She asked him in an almost inaudible voice. "Yep. And me?"_

"_Absolutely." She pushed him up off of her and laughed a bit. Crawling on her knees in the plush grass and the brown, dead leaves, she grabbed the picnic basket that they had brought with them. Don helped her spread out the trademark cotton red-and-white checked tablecloth upon the ground. "Don, what'cha want to start with? The sandwiches or the salad?" She took out two crystal champagne flutes, two sets of pristine silverware, and two porcelain plates. He gazed into her blue eyes and thought about how beautiful she was in the sunlight. She'd introduced him to picnicking, and he surprisingly liked it. Commonly he would fib a little to his coworkers saying he had to see Charlie, and run away for about an hour with Chelsea. "Don? Are you paying attention? Salad or sandwiches? Which do you want to start with?" _

"_How about this?" Don pulled out a tiny box, "Will you marry me, Chelsea McDaniel?" She took the tiny box in her hand, and tears came to her eyes, and she nodded enthusiastically—no words could come to her mouth. Don took a deep breath and exhaled, relaxing. He took out the gold ring with large, flawless diamonds and showed her the inscription "You're the love of my life, and you will be always, and forever more –Love always, Don." Slowly, he slipped it onto her finger, and she threw herself into his embrace, giving him a large kiss, "This is the best day of my life—thank you," Chelsea said in between sobs. Don knew that he would remember every aspect of that moment. "Me too. Me too," He answered holding her tight as they stayed like that, just enjoying each other's company on that perfect day_.

That had been November; now it was dawning on the New Year. So much had changed since then. Don realized that.

Her doctor passed by, "Sir, do you think that I'll be able to see her?"

"I don't know. She's in critical condition," the doctor started, but seeing the utter desolation on his face, he permitted it, "but only for a few minutes."

"That's all that I want. Thank you." It made Don feel better just to be in her presence. He approached her door, and opened it with caution as if she was going to wake up at any second.

What he saw just about broke him. Chelsea laid in the bed with an IV in each arm, tubes in her arms, and wires attached to various places on her chest and arms. He walked up to the bed and took her left hand and slipped the ring that he had put so much thought into back on her hand, "You wouldn't want to lose that. I don't want to take it from you. Wake up… please… please wake up." He bent down and kissed the top of her bandaged forehead gently. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I love you so much…" Don said almost inaudibly, turning to leave and seeing Megan in the doorway.

"How long were you standing there for?" he asked Megan incredulously.

"Long enough. You really care about her, don't you, Don?" she asked him, the psychoanalyst in her taking over. It seemed to do that when she was tired.

He sighed a deep sigh, "You didn't see anything. And if you did, don't get used to it." He sat in one of the chairs, and Megan followed suit, "Damn… I'm supposed to go see Charlie. He was in some sort of panic or another. Will you stay with her? Tell Chelsea I'll be right back if she wakes up." Don stood up and got ready to go.

"I talked to her pretty often, and the funny thing is that she never mentioned you…"

"That's the way we wanted it." Don replied as he left the room and set out to go see what was up with Charlie.

* * *

"AMITA!"

Amita heard her name called a few times by a familiar voice—Charlie's voice. She perked her head up and cleared away the few tears that had come to her cheeks in the past… she didn't know how long she'd been sitting in that spot.

All she did realize was that her feet were cut and her head was bleeding worse than she thought it was. Amita herd her name get called again. She cautiously got up and started walking towards the back glass door. _If Charlie's here…he's gone_. She opened the door and stepped into the house.

The house had taken on a completely different personality than just a bit before. She heard Charlie walking around and thought she could hear the fright in his voice. He stopped up against the kitchen counter and stabbed the blood covered knife into the cutting board, causing it to stick out perpendicular to the board. This wasn't the Charlie that she was used to. She could only imagine what he thought when he saw the blood on the knife. "Charlie?" she whispered, subconsciously pulling her hands into her sweater to hide all of the scrapes.

He went rigid for a moment and turned around. His eyes lit up at the sight of her and she could tell that a wave of relief washed over him. "You're… You're," he stuttered, not believing his eyes. Amita though that she saw tears form in the corners of his eyes, "A hug would be nice," she said quietly. Without any hesitation, Charlie crossed the kitchen and engulfed her in a hug. Charlie never wanted to let her go, _What if I had lost you?_ "I'm just so glad you're safe," He looked down at her. Amita's hair had dirt in it, her forehead had blood flowing slowly from a gash, her feet looked gnarled up, and she wouldn't even let him see her hands. She curled her feet towards each other, embarrassed of how horrible she looked right now. Charlie's heart melted, she looked petrified. He took her hands in his, "Honey, this doesn't look good…" He cleared away some of the blood from her face as well. "C'mon. Let's go get you looked at."

Amita just nodded and followed him to the paramedic.

* * *

It took Don about an hour to get to his brother's house from the hospital. The night was having its toll on him. After this, he'd take a month off and disappear. And if Chelsea was better, if she recovered at all, he'd take her with him.

_Why did Charlie have to leave the office? Damn him,_ thought Don, losing the resolve to be mad at Charlie, and only at himself. It was his personal relationships that got everyone he loved into scrapes like this. People like him deserved to be miserable and alone, he thought. However, he'd only had a connection to one of the occurrences. _Maybe it was a warning of things to come…_ thought Don, hoping that his hunch wasn't right.

He turned the SUV down the familiar street to be welcomed with an unfamiliar sight—just about every emergency response vehicle in the greater Los Angeles area. Police were everywhere. He stopped his car short of the yellow tape, and flashed his badge go get through. In the back of one of the ambulances were Charlie and Amita, who was looking roughed up and scared. Charlie was there comforting her, apparently speaking soothing words to her softly, something that he didn't think Charlie was capable of. _Easy for him to have a relationship_, Don thought enviously. He walked over to the pair. Amita sat up, but still remained close to Charlie—obvious change in personality. Meagan's Psychology Profiling 101-or so they liked to call her little tangents on profiling- told him that trauma of some kind happened.

"Okay, I'm here," he growled a bit more harshly than he had wanted to, "hey Amita." She acknowledged him with a nod.

"What's all of the commotion, Charlie?"

"Somebody tried to kill Amita," Charlie stated plainly, adding no finesse like he usually did. The bluntness struck Don as odd.

"Okay, why would anyone want to kill her? Kill me, maybe. Her? Never."

"Look Charlie, tonight has been awful. You're connected with the FBI… I'm connected with the FBI… we're both connected to her… therefore, she's connected," he motioned to Amita, "I though that you were supposed to be the genius."

"What am I supposed to do? I can't go back into the house. Nobody can. I don't want to pull a Flinehart and use my office."

"I heard that!" yelled Larry from where he was observing the symmetry of a batch of tulips, "I forgot how beautiful these were!"

Charlie waved, "What are we supposed to do Don?" He observed Don just like Don observed Charlie. He was haggard and looked more tired than he had seen him in a long time. Don's brown hair was mussed up, there were dark circles under his eyes, and the luster that usually found its way to his eyes was extinguished, and Charlie wondered why. He repeated his question again, "What are we supposed to do, Don?"

"I don't know," he sighed, "Just come with me." Don talked to one of the paramedics, and he nodded in return. "He says that you're good to come with me. Grab Larry." Don started walking back towards this black SUV. Amita and Charlie called Larry and followed, but Amita stopped for a second, "Charlie, I don't have any shoes." They both laughed a bit for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

"I don't think we can go back in."

"That's okay."

"No, it's not," Charlie replied as he picked her up and carried her to the car. Larry shook his head in disbelief, "Always the knight, Charles." They all smiled a small smile.

As soon as they had shut the doors, Don hit the gas pedal and headed straight back for the hospital.

* * *

The man in the black SUV watched the entire exchange. He watched Amita and Charlie emerge from the house—he was really the one he wanted, she was just a consolation prize. He watched Don arrive. He watched Don go back to his car, with the other three following.

He noticed that the FBI agent looked exhausted and agitated—_something must have really gotten to him_, thought the man, _I know what._ This caused a shrill laugh to emanate through the air. _Boss'll be proud_, he thought once again. As the black FBI SUV left, he turned the car on and tailed it to where ever it was going.

* * *

Don picked up his cell phone and dialed Megan's number. She answered and Don could discern the exhaustion in her voice, "_Reeves."_

"Megan, it's Don."

"_How's Charlie?"_ she asked.

"He's fine. He's with me… and so is Amita… and Larry."

"_I thought that they were at the office._"

"Nope. They left."

"_Well that's obvious if they're there with you. What happened?_" Megan interjected.

"Charlie says somebody tried to kill Amita and the house is in shambles."

"_What?!"_

"Yep. Send Colby and David out there ASAP. I don't want any of those LAPD monkeys processing the scene. Better yet get the FBI CSU out there too. They'll do a better job."

"_Can do. So, why else did you call, Don?"_

Don lowered his voice, "How is she?"

"_She's better than she was. She's sleeping a bit easier, but she still hasn't woken up yet. Her doctor was looking for a relative or husband earlier; I told him that you'd be back soon."_

"I'll talk to you about that when I get there. Bye, Megan." He hung up the phone and looked into the rear-view mirror, noticing for the first time the headlights tailing them. _Great_, he thought, rolling his eyes, _Could this night get any worse?_

He took a few turns, hoping to loose the car. Don turned on to the busiest street in LA, and then, unexpectedly took a left hand turn, finally loosing the other car. After he was sure that he'd lost it, Don finally continued onto the hospital.

* * *

**Well, I hope you liked it! I'll try to update with little updates every few days... Stay Tuned! Until then... here's a sneak preview of Chapter 5... Reviews are always welcome!**

_ "Excuse me," Megan started, "how long will it be before she…um… wakes up?"_

_"Are you family?" the snappy nurse snapped._

_"No, I'm a friend."_

_"Then I can't disclose that information, ma'am." Megan had had enough; her friend was in the hospital, she'd been working for at least 24 hours straight, and she just didn't feel like putting up with a nurse who needed coffee among other things. "I don't care. I just want to know. Don't give me any of that damn 'confidentiality' crap. She's an FBI agent, and as an FBI agent," Megan flashed her badge, "I order you to give me her prognosis."_

_The nurse rolled her eyes, "She's on morphine pretty heavily right now, and it doesn't look like she's going to need surgery after all. So, she could wake up anytime. They've taken her off of sedatives—reduced her blood pressure too low." The nurse turned to walk away but not without muttering, "Your guess is as good as mine," under her breath._


	6. Chapter 5: Keeping Secrets and New Risks

**As promised, here's another update! Thanks for all who reviewed...**

**We get to see how tired Megan is... :) **

* * *

Megan watched her friend stir under the unfeeling, cold sheets that adorned the hospital bed with nothing but sadness. She hated to see her friend like this. _I can only guess how Don felt_, she thought. A nurse came in and checked Chelsea's vitals. "Excuse me," Megan started, "how long will it be before she…um… wakes up?"

"Are you family?" the snappy nurse snapped.

"No, I'm a friend."

"Then I can't disclose that information, ma'am." Megan had had enough; her friend was in the hospital, she'd been working for at least 24 hours straight, and she just didn't feel like putting up with a nurse who needed coffee among other things. "I don't care. I just want to know. Don't give me any of that damn 'confidentiality' crap. She's an FBI agent, and as an FBI agent," Megan flashed her badge, "I order you to give me her prognosis."

The nurse rolled her eyes, "She's on morphine pretty heavily right now, and it doesn't look like she's going to need surgery after all. So, she could wake up anytime. They've taken her off of sedatives—reduced her blood pressure too low." The nurse turned to walk away but not without muttering, "Your guess is as good as mine," under her breath.

Taking a deep breath, Megan was relieved. Though Chelsea looked awful, she was a fighter and wasn't going to give up easily. All of a sudden, she heard a knock on the door and saw Don and the gang standing there. Megan stood up, "I, uh, sent Colby and David to the house. They should be there by now. Hi Amita. Hi Charlie. Larry?"

Larry walked up and gave her a hug, which she took gratefully. Amita and Charlie acknowledged her greeting by nodding their heads. Megan looked at them, both of them looked wary and tired; Amita was in a wheelchair with her hands and soles of her feet bandaged. The color was drained from her face, but Megan could tell that it was starting to return as she was around Charlie. _They really have something special_, she thought with a small smile. Larry took her hand and moved them to sit back down. Before he did, Megan stopped him, "I think that Don needs a few minutes alone. Let's all go get a coffee. I know I could sure use one." Charlie and Amita agreed. On her way out she laid a hand on Don's shoulder momentarily, sending a clear message of "I'm here for you" to him. It was all he needed as the group walked down the sterile corridor and he shut the door.

* * *

Charlie was confused at everything that was going on. "You all found the missing agent?" he asked Megan.

"Yeah, but that's not the only thing that we found. We found her boyfriend, uh, fiancé, too," she replied, walking with Larry's arm around shoulder.

"She had a fiancé?" asked Amita from her wheelchair. Charlie continued to push her down towards the deserted hospital cafeteria.

"Yep."

"Is there something that we should know, Megan?" he asked again, full of questions about why his brother was so lackluster.

"I think that Don should tell you that one," she replied with a small smile, _Don sure can keep a secret... Charlie dosen't even know..._

* * *

Don sat in the pale pink plastered hospital room holding Chelsea's hand, willing for her to wake up. The time passed seemed like an eternity. He didn't know if she could hear him, but he talked anyways. "Why did we choose to keep our engagement a secret? I know it was more me than you; you wanted to proclaim it to the world. Why didn't I let you?"

He let his head drop in sorrow and self disgust, and heard a barley audible voice, "You didn't… want anything… to happen to… me." Don's head shot up as he saw her try to laugh a bit and open her eyes a sliver.

"Ssh… don't," he put his finger to her lips, "just rest. But, I promise, when you get out, you can scream at the top of your lungs that you're getting married. I have to go tell your doctor that you're awake. Rest." Don placed a kiss on the top of her head and walked out to find her doctor, only to find Megan, Larry, Charlie, and Amita coming back up through the hallway with coffee in their hands and what looked like a bag of doughnuts.

Megan saw him, and he gave her a reassuring smile. She noticed that some of the character in his eyes returned. "Hey Don, you look better."

"Yeah," he was back to his concrete-shell self, "Do you know where her doctor went? You said he wanted to see me."

"Oh, yeah. That's his station," she pointed to a bunch of desks under a sign, "You'll let me know what's up, right?"

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly as he walked off. When he reached the desk, he asked a nurse about which doctor was manning Chelsea.

"Miss McDaniel is being tended to by Doctor Sheldon Stacey," the terse nurse replied without looking up. When Don didn't leave, she threw down her pencil and sighed, "Is there anything else I can do to help you, **sir**?" She spat the last word out.

"Where is Dr. Stacey now?" Don said, trying to curb his annoyance. A doctor walked up and wrote something on a clipboard.

"I'm right here. Mr…" he hesitated, and Don flashed his badge, "Eppes, what can I do for you?"

"I was told by my agent that you were looking for me?"

"Actually, I was looking for a family member or a husband."

"Her family lives in Scranton, New Jersey." Don stated a matter-of-factly.

"Oh, well then perhaps a spouse or fiancé?" the doctor said as he headed towards Chelsea's room with an update for her chart and a splint and bandages.

Don sighed a heavy sigh, the choice for everything to remain a secret was starting to crush him mentally, "You're looking at him."

"Well then, I suppose that I am permitted to disclose her condition to you."

"Just spit it out," Don said, too tired to deal with people beating around the bush. He wanted it blunt; so to the point that a kindergartener could understand. The doctor looked around at the gang gathered outside the door and at their concerned, but relaxed, smiling faces as they enjoyed one another's company. "Maybe we should step inside." He opened the door, and followed Don in, not seeing the expressions that that sentence had launched.

* * *

Colby Granger and David Sinclair sat in the FBI-issued black SUV on the way to Charlie's house with their gear in tow. They'd been to the house numerous times, but never once as a crime scene. The CSU was in tow was well. Colby, driving at the time, decided to break the contemplative silence that seemed to enjoy stifling them.

"So which is more surprising, Don having a fiancé or Flinehart and Megan?" he asked with a smile on his face. They always tried to laugh of dire situations with light conversation and jokes.

"Dude, you're asking me to answer?" David asked, rubbing his hand on his buzz-cut head, "I thought that you had a thing for her once."

Colby shook his head, "No. Out of the two… I'd say…"

"Don having a fiancé?" David finished.

"Yup," he replied as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to an indiscernible rhythm, "how'd he get it past us? That's one hell of a secret to keep."

"How would I know? He did go to see Charlie a lot in the past few months..." David leaned against the window; ten minutes and they would be at Charlie's house.

"Something just doesn't add up. We sound like two gossiping girls."

"You're right, man. All I can say is that Don knows how to keep a secret."

"Why from us though? You think that he would trust us…"

"I'm sure he does. Megan would know better… it's just all of that psychoanalytical stuff." David replied as they both looked at each other and at the phone sitting in the central console. Colby reached out and grabbed it, "I'm calling Megan." He hit the speed dial and waited for her to pick up.

_"Reeves_._"_

"Hey Megan."

_"Hey Colby. Did you find anything?"_

Colby put the phone on speaker, David replied, "We aren't actually there yet."

_"Then why are you calling?"_

"We have a question for you."

_"What is it? By the way, Charlie, Amita, and Larry are standing next to me."_

That seemed to be a warning of some sorts, "Why would Don not tell anybody about being engaged; not us, not his family, not her family?"

_"Well, there could be a number of things. Maybe because he didn't want to be bothered about it."_

"We thought about that, but then he would have just told us and her family. He wouldn't have told his father or Charlie. Maybe Charlie."

_"Then maybe he was afraid of losing the one thing that he couldn't bear to. He's lost a lot. He might just be afraid to lose any more. Type A personality, fellas. By not telling anybody, he'd put her and everybody elsein less danger ."_

Colby and David nodded in agreement. "Thanks Megan," they said as they turned onto Charlie's street and hung up the phone. David looked at Colby, "You think that's it?"

"I don't know, man. But what I do know is we have a job to do." Colby parked the car, jumped out, grabbed his kit and started walking up towards the house, currently crawling with LAPD buffoons and their CSU. _This is going to be a long night_, thought Colby and David in unison.

* * *

Don stood in Chelsea's room waiting to hear her prognosis from the doctor. "Mr. Eppes, I suggest you sit down." He sat down, knowing that everyone outside was watching every move they made. _So this is what a goldfish feels_, he thought. "Just give me the prognosis Doc."

"As you know, Miss McDaniel sustained a great deal of trauma…" the doctor started. Don's mind couldn't help but comment on what he was saying, "Fortunately, she sustained relatively minor injuries for what we would have expected to see. Though she was beaten relatively harshly…" _I could have told you that._ "She sustained few serious injuries," he looked down at her chart, "The most serious was a fractured right wrist. However, there was one thing… we did a SART kit for your forensics people… and there was, well…" _Will you just get on with it?_ Don's phone rang, He walked out of the room, signaled for Megan to finish talking with the doctor, and walked down the hall to answer his phone.

* * *

Don walked down out of earshot of the gang, "Eppes."

"_Hello Agent Eppes_," a dark, ominous voice said on the other end.

"Who is this?" Don practically spat with disdain.

"_Why don't you call me 'Mr. X,' Agent Eppes?"_

"I don't care what I call you, you son of a—"

_"My, my Agent, you have a rather hot head tonight, don't you? I hope that your fiancé is doing well... she really is tough. So was the other agent, but look what happened to her. Your brother's little girlfriend is a clever one too. We really wanted him on that table. She would have done well, except she escaped. We'll have to amend that..."_ The voice enjoyed telling this to Don. _"We don't want any traces on this or you'll see one whom you care about lying in the morgue by the end of tonight."_ Don gulped. His heart was telling him to comply with whatever he said, but his head knew better. He couldn't bear to see Chelsea, Charlie, Megan, Colby, David, his father, or Larry or Amita on the cold table, lifeless.

"What do you want?" he growled.

_"Simply to warn you that we are watching you, and if you do not get your head in this little game, there'll be more for you to ache over. Remember my warning Agent Eppes. Any wrong move, just like chess, could cost you a piece."_ The line went dead. Don walked over to the wall and slammed his fists up against the tile in anger.

_Just which piece am I willing to risk,_ Don questioned himself while taking a deep breath and walking back over to where everyone was standing, waiting for Megan to come out.

* * *

**Reviews are always nice! Press that little blue button! Make my day :)**

**Here's a preview... Stay tuned...**

_As Megan came out he quickly took her by the arm, and led her off to the side. "I need you to run a tap on my phone, but an undetectable one. I just got a call from a 'Mr. X,' the one responsible for all of this." _

_ "Yeah, sure. I'll go do that now." He turned to leave, and she grabbed him by the arm, "There's one more thing." _

_ "What? Oh, and one more thing, go to the Director, and say that we need two IDs created pronto, Witness Protection, the works. We'll be contact agents. Tell him we get final approval. Hell, tell him we'll create them." He turned and started to walk towards the group and the room; suddenly, he stopped and turned back to Megan, "Coming?"_


End file.
